____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 4: “Brian, Brian! For God’s sake Jack, what have you done?” screamed Joan Kinney and she pushed past her husband and rushed down the stairs to where Brian was lying in a heap on the floor. Brian groaned. “Wait, don’t move, honey”, she said. From somewhere, Brian’s Mother suddenly found the maternal instinct that had been buried all these years and she stroked her son’s forehead and started to feel if there were any broken bones. “I… I’m OK Mom”, whispered Brian. But he didn’t feel it. He’d caught his cheekbone on the edge of a stair, his shoulder was hurting where he’d landed and he’d twisted his ankle and bruised his thigh and elbows on the way down and had the wind knocked right out of him. Jack stood watching from the top of the stairs, seemingly unable to give Joan a hand as she picked her son up off the floor and helped him through to the lounge room. Brian limped, he couldn’t put much weight on his ankle and it hurt to breathe. “Jack” called Joan. “Get me some ice out the freezer”. Reluctantly, Brian’s Father came downstairs and for once did what he was told and handed Joan a towel in which he’d placed the contents of the ice tray. She took a piece of ice from the towel and handed it to Brian. “Here”, she said. “Hold this against your cheek, it will help the bruise go down”. Then kneeling down, she carefully took off his trainer and sock and placed the towel on his injured ankle. She spoke quietly, so that Jack wouldn’t hear. “When are you going to learn, Brian?” she asked. “You know how your Father gets and yet you’re always doing stuff that makes him mad”. “Mom, all I did was stay over at Mikey’s house……..” “Don’t backchat me Brian,” said his Mother. “I won’t have it”. Brian went quiet. Trying to reason with either of his parents always proved fruitless. They were always right and he was always in the wrong. The rest of the weekend, Brian would be forced to stay in his bedroom, resting his ankle. Keeping to himself so that he would have as little contact with his parents as possible. Back at the Novotny’s house, Debbie had got up to make the breakfasts that morning and had called up the stairs to Michael when they were ready. When he came down alone, Debbie asked, “Where’s Brian?” “He’s already gone”, answered her son. Debbie placed Michael’s breakfast in front of him and shook her head. “What is going on with that kid?” she said, sitting down beside her son. “Michael”, she said. “does Brian’s Father ever hit him?” Eventually, Michael answered. “He’s never said, but I think so”. “Thought so,” said his Mother. “’Bout time something was done about that”. Monday morning, Brian was still limping when he went to school and his cheekbone still showed the bruise quite clearly. Michael spotted him as soon as he came through the school gates and came running up to him. “What happened to you?” asked Michael. “Why did you bale on me?” “Yeah”, said Brian. “I’m sorry about that, but there was no way I wanted your Mom to meet my Dad”. Michael looked at his friend; suddenly realising Brian had been limping across the yard towards him. “Christ, Brian”, said Michael. “What happened to you again?” Brian looked away. “I fell down the stairs,” he said, knowing how unconvincing that sounded. “Mom asked me if your Dad ever hit you,” said Michael. Brian whirled around to face him. “What did you tell her?” he asked. “I said……….I thought he probably did,” replied Michael. “Shit Mikey – what did you tell her that for?” “Well, it’s true – isn’t it?” asked Michael. But the bell rang, saving Brian from having to answer any more questions from his friend. Later that afternoon during Math, a message came for Brian to report to the Principal’s office. Wondering what he could possibly have done that was so bad for him to be summoned like that, Brian’s heart was pounding as he knocked on the door to Mr. Andrews’ office. “Come in Brian” came the voice from inside. Mr. Andrews rose from his chair and sat on the corner of the desk. “Sit down, Brian” he said. “Well, I’ve had your teachers telling me that you’re always coming to school covered in bruises and, well, you look that way now. How did that happen?” he said, pointing to Brian’s bruised face. “I fell downstairs at home” replied Brian. “Mmm. I see,” said the Principal. “Well Brian, I’m afraid I couldn’t ignore those reports and I’ve been in touch with Social Services”, continued Mr. Andrews. “They would like you and your parents to come to a meeting here tomorrow. There’s a letter in the mail that they will get today telling them about what’s been arranged. So if you all come here at 9.30am. for us to have a chat about you, we’ll try and get things sorted out. You’d better get back to class now”. Brian left the room, but there was no way he was going back to classes today. He was appalled. How on earth could they do this to him? Didn’t they know he’d probably get the shit beaten out of him again for this? Brian knew he couldn’t go home today, not with that letter on it’s way from Social Services, so he hung around the yard until school finished, waiting for Michael. “What happened to you?” asked his friend, running over to him. “Fucking Social Services want a meeting with me and my folks” replied Brian. “Mikey, I can’t go home tonight, my Dad will really lay into me for this” said Brian and for the first time, he actually sounded scared. “That’s OK” replied Michael. “You can come home with me”. “Thanks”, said Brian “but don’t tell your Mom, I don’t want her fussing, OK?” Michael nodded, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy keeping anything from Debbie. Mrs. Novotny was already making dinner when they arrived at Michael’s. “Mom”, he said. “Brian’s staying here tonight”. Debbie looked up from the stove, she could see how worried both boys looked and decided not to question them at this time. “Sure, honey. You’re always welcome here Brian”, she said. After dinner, the boys retreated upstairs. “What am I gonna do Mikey?” asked Brian. “I’ll be in deep shit if Social Services find out my Dad’s always beating on me”. Brian was sitting on Michael’s bed. He was almost in tears and Michael sat down beside him, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders. “Maybe it’s for the best,” said his friend. “I’ve seen the bruises remember? Your Dad could hurt you real bad one time and then it might be too late”. Brian’s tears ran down his face. “But what if they decide to take me into care?” he said. “I’ve heard about what happens to kids when they go in to foster care. People don’t give a fuck about them and they could take me miles from here and I might never see you again”. Brian’s shoulders shook as the sobs took over and Michael held him. When he quietened, Michael helped Brian undress and they got into bed. Hugging one another, both boys waited for sleep to come. But Brian didn’t sleep and it was going to be a long night. In the morning, both boys set off to school together. At 9.30am. Brian made his way to the Principal’s office and much to his surprise his Mom was waiting there for him. “Where’s Pop?” Brian asked. “Your Father’s not coming” his Mother replied. Along with the Principal, Joan Kinney and Brian, two Social Workers attended the meeting. And, after much discussion, Joan agreed for her son to be taken into care. One of the Social Workers, Pete Downey, took Joan and Brian back home. Brian packed some clothes into an overnight bag; said goodbye to his Mom and was driven away. He never even got the chance to say goodbye to Michael. After hanging up the few clothes he had in the closet of his new bedroom, Brian went downstairs to find his Foster-Mom. The Kramer’s were sitting in their kitchen talking to the Social Worker. Mr. Downey was a decent man, who had tried hard to reassure Brian that removing him from home was the best thing for him. Sure, Jack’s rages had become more frequent, when he would lash out at Brian for no reason. No reason thought Brian, except that he should never have been born – not according to his Father, at any rate. Jack Kinney should never have tried to be a family man, wasn’t cut out for it and had wanted Brian’s Mother to have an abortion when they’d learned she was pregnant. The devoutly religious Joan had refused, but Jack’s attitude to her and Brian had deteriorated over the years, leading Joan to lose herself in the bottle and Brian taking the brunt of his Father’s anger. But they were his parents and he couldn’t help but feel that somehow, this was all his fault. “Brian”, said Pete “Mrs. Kramer will take you into school tomorrow for your first day. It’s not possible for you to stay where you were, I’m afraid. It’s too far to travel. But the new school should be just fine. If there are any problems at all, here is the number for the office. Give me a call.” He handed Brian a card with his name and telephone number on it, shook Mr. Kramer’s hand and said goodbye. “Come and sit down Brian and have some milk and sandwiches, you must be really hungry by now”, said Mrs. Kramer, patting the chair next to hers. “Don’t worry”, she continued, “Things will work out just fine. If you like, Social Services can arrange for you to meet with your Mom and your Dad, if that’s what you want”. Brian just shrugged and helped himself to the food that was offered to him. The last person he wanted to see was his Dad. His Mom wasn’t so bad, when she kept off the sauce that was, which unfortunately, wasn’t very often. After polishing off the plate of sandwiches, Brian asked if he could go back to his room. “Yes, of course”, said Mrs. Kramer, “We’ll have something to eat properly around six. I’ll give you a call”. Alone now in his room, Brian started to have a look to see what was on the bookshelves. Some of the previous kids there must have been into comic books; Superman, Batman, Spiderman. They reminded him of Michael and he was sorry he hadn’t been able to see him before he’d had to leave. The following day, Mrs. Kramer took Brian to his new school and he was introduced to the teacher. Standing at the front of the class, he could tell what was going through everyone’s minds. “Foster-kid”. The teacher, Mrs. Kablinsky, introduced Brian to his new classmates and told him to take a seat. Brian chose the spare one right at the back of the room, hoping to keep out of everyone’s way and that no-one would pay him any attention. And he got what he wanted. At recess, he was left to himself. None of the other kids bothered to talk to him, but he could see they were talking about him, in their little huddles, snickering and making fun. And that’s how it was at Brian’s new school. No-one to talk to or to sit with whilst he ate the packed lunch Mrs. Kramer had made for him. No-one to kick a ball about with during recess. He wasn’t asked if he’d like to join in with whatever the other kids were doing. The only contact when Luke, the class bully, thought it fun to trip Brian up as he was almost at the bottom of the stairs, sending him sprawling, his school books scattering onto the floor, leaving Brian with a sore knee and dented pride: The other kids laughing at his plight. But Brian didn’t care. He’d learned to survive on his own. Learned to do without support from others. And, just like when his Father beat him up, Brian was damned if he’d let anyone see the tears and the pain he felt from being made either a target or being left totally isolated and alone. To be continued. 27 March 04